


Rumpelstilinski

by ophelianipples



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, and they lived happily ever after, idk what else to tag i'm about to fall asleep, please tell me if you spot something, regency AU vibes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-22
Updated: 2017-09-22
Packaged: 2019-01-04 02:29:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12159732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ophelianipples/pseuds/ophelianipples
Summary: Derek doesn't know how to spin straw into gold, and Stiles is willing to help - but it comes with a price... (aka the Rumpelstiltskin AU you didn't know you needed)





	1. Part One - A Saviour

**Author's Note:**

> This is the original story which I used as the basis for this AU: http://www.pitt.edu/~dash/grimm055.html
> 
> Thank you to my Sterek Writing Room chat for helping me! Especially @clotpolesonly who helped me make it feel more old fashioned!
> 
> I don't own any of the characters in this fic, they belong to the creators of Teen Wolf and the Brothers Grimm.

Derek slumped against the cold stone. He had  _ no idea _ what to do. 

The night marched onwards, and he still couldn’t escape, or communicate with his pack, or think of a way to fight an entire castle of royal armed hunters. Worst of all, he couldn't - as Laura had claimed in a last, desperate attempt to save him - spin straw into gold.

He stared around at the piles of straw littering his cell, the useless spinning wheel in the corner, and tears welled up in his eyes and spilled over his cheeks.

Resigned to his fate, he howled, long and loud, in the hope that Laura and Cora could hear him one last time before they were all killed come morning. And maybe he would hear them. He closed his eyes to listen, his skin buzzing with some mixture of adrenaline, fear, and rage.

And he did hear something, but not a howl. A _ voice. _

“Good evening, Derek Hale, why are you crying so?”

Derek jumped to his feet, claws and teeth bared. A young man stood in front of him, dressed smartly, looking completely unaffected by the furious Alpha werewolf standing mere feet away.

“Who are you?” Derek growled, instinctively taking a step backwards.

“I’m Stiles,” the boy replied, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. He looked as delicate and rouged as a virgin on her wedding night, until you saw his eyes. Pitch black. Derek shivered. “I’m here to help you.” He took a step forward. “What do you need, Hale?”

Derek didn’t take his eyes off the boy’s lithe frame. He may have looked skinny and defenceless, but any creature willing to stand up to an Alpha werewolf was not one to be trifled with.

Not one to be  _ refused. _

“I am supposed to spin straw into gold,” Derek said reluctantly. "It’s the only thing that will save my pack from the Argents. And I do not know how to do it.”

The boy said, “What will you give me if I spin it for you?”

“My necklace,” Derek replied, though it wasn’t truly his necklace. It was all he had left of his mother. It was  _ hers. _ But he knew that, in the eyes of a creature such as this, an item of sentimental value would be a better trade for its service.

“A fine token,” the boy nodded as he took it. He rubbed a thumb over the triskele sigil. “It was your mother's?”

Derek nodded jerkily as the boy sat down before the spinning wheel.

_ Whir, whir, whir, _ he pulled the spool until it was full. Derek could only watch, finding himself mesmerised by his nimble fingers.

_ Whir, whir, whir.  _ Sparks of magic lit the delicate planes of the boy’s face, throwing his eyelashes into stark relief.

_ Whir, whir, whir.  _ By daybreak, all the straw was spun, and all the spools filled with gold.

 

* * *

* * *

 

In the morning the king came, and when he saw the gold he was surprised.

“It seems you do have a few tricks up your sleeve after all.” Argent sneered. “Maybe it is worth keeping you alive. Repeat your efforts tonight, and I will consider letting your dear sister,  _ Laura, _ stay alive as well.”

Derek’s heart skipped a beat and he dipped his head deferentially.

“Your Highness,” he said quietly, “If you let my sisters go I will happily spin gold for you until the end of my days. If I know they are safe - I can spin gold all day and all night. I swear it.”

The king simply laughed.

“Fail tonight, and all three of you little mutts will die tomorrow.” Using the end of his staff, the king forced Derek’s chin up to meet his eyes.

_ “I swear it.” _

 

* * *

* * *

 

They dumped him in a bigger cell, with more straw, and he hadn’t even been allowed to see his sisters. It was this that drove him to tears once again. He howled for his sisters, and just like the night before, the boy appeared.  _ Stiles. _ The air seemed to crackle in his presence.

He said, “What will you give me if I spin the straw into gold for you?”

“The ring from my finger,” answered Derek.

Stiles took the ring and nodded appreciatively. “Your father’s ring?”

“His wedding ring.” Derek croaked. What did it matter if this boy knew.

Stiles looked up at him in question, and despite the darkness behind his smile, Derek found himself wanting to - not trust him, exactly. Just to be  _ seen _ by him, somehow.  

“The Argents killed our parents,” Derek found himself saying, as Stiles sat before the spinning wheel once again. “And our uncle, aunt, brothers, cousins. There were humans in our family. Children. The Argents cared not.”

Stiles spared a sorrowful look for Derek before beginning his work.

_ Whir, whir, whir, _ he spun the straw, and Derek’s words were pulled out of him as if on a spool. For the first time since his parents perished, he spoke about them to someone who had never known them. He told of their love for each other, the way they took care of the pack together. An Alpha and her mate.

_ Whir, whir, whir, _ Derek spoke about Laura and Cora, they way they’d survived the last few years alone, laying low and traveling far from their homeland, with only each other for comfort. 

_ Whir, whir, whir, _ the words slowed as the supply of straw dwindled. By sunrise, all the straw was spun, and all the spools filled with gold.

 

* * *

* * *

 

The king was happy beyond measure about the gold, but his hatred for ‘wolves shone bright. “You got lucky,  _ Hale, _ ” he spat. “The bitch Laura has been spared from death. If you value your life and the life of the youngest bitch, you will show us your talent once again, this night."

Derek snarled and fought against his shackles, but it was futile.

 

* * *

* * *

 

Derek didn’t waste any time that night. He howled and he let himself cry, too, just for good measure. It was oddly cathartic. He watched Stiles appear this time - curling into existence from nothing but a spark and a tiny dark billow of smoke.

“What will you give me if I spin the straw this time?” Stiles asked.

“I have nothing more that I could give you,” answered Derek.

Stiles’s expression sharpened, and Derek’s skin prickled in foreboding.

“Then promise me, after you are free, you will give me your first-bitten beta.”

Derek’s jaw went slack in surprise - it was  _ a lot _ to ask. A bond between an alpha and their beta was as strong as that between a parent and a child, if not stronger.

“Why?” Derek asked.

“It doesn’t matter, does it?” Stiles countered. “The life of a beta that doesn’t exist, in exchange for the life of your dear sister Cora.”

He was right. Derek swallowed, his throat dry. It went against all of his instincts. This creature could want a beta werewolf for a multitude of reasons, none of them good.

But who knew what would happen? All he knew for sure was that this was a chance to save his pack.

So he promised the boy what he demanded, and once again the boy spun the straw into gold.

The next morning, by some miracle, Derek and his sisters were tossed from the castle grounds with nothing but a promise from King Argent that next time he caught them, they would die, regardless of any hidden talents.

They were free, the only cost a necklace, a ring, and a yet unbitten beta.

 _A_ _never_ _bitten_ beta, Derek vowed to himself.  


	2. Part Two - A Trickster

At the back of his mind, Derek always wondered where Stiles was. How quickly he would come to claim his prize should Derek dare to give someone the bite. A shameful part of him  _ wanted  _ to see the boy again.

But he never let himself dwell for long on these thoughts. Derek, Laura and Cora were traveling far and wide in search of a territory to which they could lay their claim, and as Alpha, Derek didn’t have time to fantasise about creatures with corrupt intentions. 

A year passed and they found themselves settling for quite some time in a dusty town that was flanked on one side by a fathomless, rust-red canyon and on the other, a swathe of dry forest. It was here that they befriended a young man, Scott McCall, another traveler weary from a long journey. For a week they laboured in the forest, chopping wood alongside Scott in exchange for food and board and commiserating with him over a warm drink at the tavern.

It was on the seventh day of labour that Derek, parted from his two sisters in order to patrol the territory, heard the sound of Scott screaming in terror. He ran, following the sound, and found that a young man had backed Scott up against the edge of the canyon, a knife held to his throat. 

“I like to  _ play  _ with my food,” the young man cackled, oblivious to the alpha werewolf skidding to a stop behind him. “Won’t you  _ play  _ with me, Scott?”

Derek flinched as the young man hissed gleefully and dropped a mouthful of fangs. “ _ Wendigo,”  _ he cursed, and with a roar, leapt forward.

All hell broke loose. The wendigo pushed Scott, who stumbled backwards over the the edge of the canyon. Derek, already in motion, ducked around the wendigo and reached out to grab Scott’s forearms just in time, dragging him up far enough to find purchase on the crumbling edge.

He hadn’t counted on the strength of the wendigo, however. It screeched in rage and dragged Derek’s right arm back and away from Scott.

“I need  _ food,”  _ it snarled. “Stupid wolf, let me have him!” It wrestled his left arm away and Scott was left hanging by his fingertips, feet dangling over the chalky abyss. “ _ I caught him fair and square!” _

Derek stayed low to the ground and lashed out at the wendigo without looking back, keeping his eyes on Scott, watching him groan and pant with the effort of holding on. Derek tried to extract an arm but the wendigo had an iron grip on him, and was beginning to succeed in dragging him away from the edge.

A wordless scream left Scott’s mouth as one hand slipped from the edge and he swung by a measly four fingers. He was only human - he would never survive the drop. Derek struggled harder, but only managed to anger the wendigo further, and it was only seconds later that Scott started to fall in earnest.

Derek lunged forward, extending his fangs, and clamped his mouth down around Scott’s arm. At that moment he caught the scents of his sisters and felt the impact as they tackled the wendigo, and with his arms suddenly freed, he reached down and helped Scott back to solid ground.

As Scott screamed in agony, clutching his bitten arm, Derek couldn’t help but think he had brought upon this young man a fate far worse than death.

 

* * *

* * *

No sooner was Scott’s transformation complete, eyes flaring golden, than Stiles appeared before them. Derek felt the crackle in the air before he saw him.

To his surprise, it was Scott who let out a strangled yell of recognition.  _ “Stiles!”  _ he cried out, and rushed forward. Derek threw his arm out to stop him.

The boy’s gaze never left Derek’s as he smiled slyly. “Now give me that which you promised.” He demanded, ignoring Laura and Cora’s threatening growls.

Scott whimpered next to him. “Stiles?  _ Stiles, look at me!” _

The boy didn’t even spare him a glance. 

“Is there nothing else I can offer?” Derek asked, trying to keep the fear out of his voice. “We have coin saved from our labour. We have supernatural strength, hearing, healing, claws - surely there’s something we can do for you. Please, Stiles.  _ Please.” _

The boy tilted his head, eyebrows drawing together in faux concern. “No. Something living is dearer to me than all the treasures of the world.”

“So  _ take me then!”  _ Derek growled. “What’s so special about a first-bitten beta? Surely an alpha -”

“ _ No,  _ Derek!” Laura snapped, stepping forward and baring her fangs at Stiles.

“What’s going on? What’s wrong with him?” Scott pleaded, not fighting to get past Derek any more, instead clutching his arm for support. “ _ Stiles -” _

Derek looked at Scott curiously. “You know -?”

There was a low growl from behind them, and before Derek could react, Cora leapt towards Stiles. For a split second Derek was convinced he would kill her - but he just rolled his eyes, twisted her arm behind her back and threw her like a ragdoll, knocking Laura, Derek, and Scott right over into the dust.

Derek reached out to make sure Cora was okay, holding her to him but never taking his eyes off the creature in front of them.

“You children are exhausting,” Stiles said, amused. “You know what? I shall make you a deal.” He smirked and raised his eyebrows at them condescendingly. “You have three days’ time. If by then you know my name - my  _ true  _ name - then you shall keep your first-born beta.” He turned his gaze to Scott for the first time. “ _ Scott McCall.” _

 

* * *

* * *

 

Derek spent the whole night thinking of all the names he had ever heard. When the boy returned the next day, he began with Kasper, Belchior, Balzer, and said in order all the names he knew. After each one, the boy gave a bored smirk and answered, “that is not my name.”

The pack asked villagers what names they had, and on the second day, they recited the most unusual and most curious names to the boy. “Is your name perhaps Beastrip? Or Muttoncalf? Or Legstring?”

But he always answered, “That is not my name.”

On the third day, they despaired. In the morning Derek excused himself to go on a run, shifting and tearing through the forest until all thought left his mind.

A familiar voice on the periphery of his hearing stopped him in his tracks.

“ I’m so sorry to do this to your precious wolves. Really, I am.”

It was Stiles. And he was talking to  _ himself.  _ Quiet as a ghost, Derek moved a little closer, ears pricked.

“Shh, shh, all will be well. I will be sure to give you a minute alone with poor Scotty before I finish him. That way, we both get what we want.”

There was a long silence in which Derek’s heart broke. Stiles, the boy for whom Scott had searched far and wide, must still be there - trapped in his own body. The demon was talking to him, taunting him. 

“Well that’s the best you’re going to get, I’m afraid.”

_ Tormenting him. _

“The young Hales may be smart, but it would take them years to chance upon your true name. It’s not particularly common, is it? Smart doesn’t help enormously when there are billions of names on this planet alone.”

“Yes, of course there are other planets, brat. I’m eight hundred years old. Just take my word for it.”

“Oh  _ Mieczyslaw,  _ be quiet,” he snapped. “There’s really no point in fussing.”

Derek froze, silently repeating the sentence over and over so as not to forget it.  _ Mieczyslaw, be quiet. Mieczyslaw, Mieczyslaw, Mieczyslaw. _

Hidden somewhere in the trees, the demon laughed. “Much better.”

 

* * *

* * *

 

Later that day Stiles appeared before the pack for a third time.

“Now, Derek Hale, what is my name?”

Laura gave Derek an encouraging smile and Scott looked upon him with desperate hope. Stiles smiled too, smug and a little playful, like a cat batting at a mouse, playing with it before moving in for the kill.

Derek steeled himself, and first asked, “Is your name Kunz?”

“No.” 

“Is your name Heinz?”

“No.”

Derek couldn’t stop his lips from twitching upwards in anticipation. 

“Is your name perhaps…  _ Mieczyslaw?” _

Stiles’s eyes widened, pools of black sparkling with confusion for just a moment, before he snapped into an apoplectic rage.

“Who told you?” He demanded, stalking towards them. The pack, clutching at each other, took several steps backwards. 

Derek placed himself in front of them and stared Stiles down as he approached, claws extended. He would prefer not to hurt the body the demon inhabited - belatedly, Derek realised he wanted to  _ know  _ the boy inside. 

Derek winced and stumbled back further as Stiles bared his teeth in a manic grin. “ _ Who told you?”  _

Would the boy inside listen to him talk for hours on end, as he had done once before? Derek wanted to find the line where the demon ended and Mieczyslaw began, slide along it with his arms thrown wide and his palms laid open. 

The demon shook his head at their collective silence, his mouth morphing from a grin to a dark, cavernous maw. “ _ The devil told you!”  _ he roared, spittle flying from his mouth. _ “The devil told you!” _

Stiles stamped his foot and there was a resounding  _ boom  _ as the ground cracked beneath him. Derek recoiled in horror as the ground opened up and swallowed his right leg whole. His body jerked and he seemed to choke on something over and over. A brittle crackling filled the air, the sound of a spreading forest fire or heavy footsteps on a pile of dry bones. 

The pack kept up a steady retreat and Scott whimpered from somewhere to Derek’s right, watching as the black of Stiles’s eyes leaked into the cracks of his skin, spreading all over. It was now that he was finally silent and his eyes seemed to lose focus, looking beyond Derek and the pack, who stood metres away in silent shock.

Then Stiles, or the thing inside Stiles, inexplicably reached down and with both hands, he took hold of his left foot, and ripped himself up the middle in two. Half of his body peeled away like a strip of bark, and instead of blood, his body emitted a thick, billowing black smoke.

When the smoke cleared, they saw Stiles’s body lying prone on the ground. 


	3. Part Three - A Prince

_“Stiles -”_ Scott cried out, and lunged forward. Cora caught him around the waist before he could go far.

“Stay back,” Derek warned Scott and his sisters. “I need to check if it’s safe.”

He approached the boy warily.  His breathing and heart-rate were very elevated, but steady. His legs and arms seemed to be in order, despite everything. His leg was no longer trapped in a chasm - in fact, the ground looked as smooth as if nothing had ever happened. He did not stir one bit as Derek approached.

Derek knelt beside the boy and cupped his face tentatively in his hands. The boy looked like he hadn’t slept once in the year since they had first met, eyes red-rimmed and lips chapped.

“Stiles,” Derek said firmly. “Stiles, wake up. I need you to look at me.”

Nothing. Derek shook his head gently and pawed at his cheek a little.

“Stiles. Come on, Scott’s here, you remember Scott? Just wake up for me, just for a second.”

_Just long enough for me to see your eyes._

Stiles’s eyebrows dipped into a frown, and Derek couldn’t resist smoothing them out with a thumb. “Mieczyslaw,” he said quietly.

At the utterance of his true name, the boy was yanked into consciousness, pitching forward and clutching at Derek’s shoulders. His eyes were wide and searching, the colour of caramel, and Derek grinned in relief. The demon was gone. He turned and nodded at Scott - it was safe to approach.

“What - how - _Derek?”_ Stiles gasped, pushing back to look at him properly. His hands remained on Derek’s shoulders for support.

“You know me?”

Stiles nodded and his eyes glistened with unshed tears. “I was there, I was there the whole time, listening - it had me trapped in my own head.” He took a deep, steadying breath. “You saved me. Thank you. How could I ever repay you?”

Derek smiled. “Having the privilege of meeting you is payment enough.”

Stiles smiled weakly back at him. “I’m glad to meet you, for all that I wish it was under better circumstances,” he murmured. Then his eyes skittered over Derek’s shoulder and he let out a bark of relieved laughter.

“ _Scott,”_ he yelled. “You found me, I knew you would.” He tried to stand up but his limbs were still too weak. “Is my father well? Are you well? You’re a ‘wolf now!”

Scott knelt beside him and bowed his head, and Stiles rolled his eyes and embraced him. Derek heard sobbing as the two young men reunited. He felt a sharp pang of irrational jealousy and began to shuffle away, but Stiles reached back with his right hand and grabbed onto his shirt, refusing to let him leave. He pulled back slightly from Scott.

“My father, is he of good health?”

Scott nodded solemnly. “Your father is well taken care of. I have not seen him in many, many moons, but I ask after him when I can. Last I heard, King Stilinski was still alive and… continuing to mourn the loss of his son.”

Derek froze, sharing a glance with Laura and Cora. _King Stilinski?_ Did that make Stiles -

“My Prince,” Scott declared, pushing Stiles back and taking a more formal kneeling stance before him. “I may be a werewolf, now, but the vow that I made to you and yours ten years ago still stands. I would be honoured if you would allow me to escort you home and continue to serve by your side.”

Stiles nodded frantically, managing to hold a princely stance for all of three seconds before he burst into happy, relieved tears and yanked both Scott and Derek in for a hug.

 

* * *

* * *

 

Later, when Stiles regained the use of his faculties, he asked Derek for his private audience. Derek’s heart pounded in his chest as they stepped outside the tavern and wandered the periphery of the forest. He didn’t know what to do, how to act, in the presence of _royalty._ He wondered if the Stilinskis had an alliance with the Argents, if they hated ‘wolves as well. Maybe Stiles wanted him to disappear with Scott and his pack, never to return.

Despite barely knowing the boy, the thought terrified Derek.

“Please, Derek,” Stiles pulled him out of his thoughts. “Don’t feel so put off by my status. God knows any dignity I had was stripped away by that spirit.” He rolled his eyes contemptuously. “Can you believe it spent all that time trying to release its kin from a prison made of tree roots? Talked about the other spirit constantly, oh they’re a thousand years old, so clever, so mighty - it had an inferiority complex that made me _glad_ to be an only child. You would think an eight hundred year old trickster spirit would have a little more _class.”_

Derek huffed out a laugh, unsure what to say.

“Sorry, I haven’t had a chance to talk properly for a long time,” Stiles muttered.

“No, it’s okay,” Derek hurried to reassure him. He brought them to a stop in a patch of moonlight. “Prince Stilinski -”

“Derek, just call me Stiles. Please.”

“Stiles. What is the matter that you wish to discuss?”

Stiles’s face softened. “I wish to formally invite you and your sisters to return with me to my land. We are not so hostile towards shifters there. Even I have a touch of spark in me, which is how that old spirit got to me in the first place. And, knowing how you saved me -” he shivered at the memory, “-my father would welcome you with open arms.”  

Derek wanted to cry at the thought. It was all they needed, all he wanted. “It would be an honour,” he croaked out.

He looked at this boy who was offering him the world, who once captivated Derek in the light of his own magic. It was the same now, the way Derek’s eyes got stuck on lips, beauty marks, eyelashes, but here - out in the open - it made him breathless rather than ashamed. He felt a pull towards Stiles that he could only liken to the unerring pull of the moon across the sky each night, something so steady and comforting, so magnificent, that it could not be ignored.

Stiles stepped closer to Derek, not quite touching him.

“I wondered, also, if you, Derek, would…” he fidgeted nervously, then huffed out a breath and squared his shoulders.

“Derek Hale,” he started again with a curious tilt to his lips, “would you do me the honour of returning to my kingdom as my groom-to-be?”

Derek’s felt his face break into a grin. “Yes,” he breathed out, and they fell into their first kiss as slowly and surely as a wave falls back into the ocean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> P.S. They lived happily ever after :)


End file.
